


The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Challenge Response, Christmas, Established Relationship, Fic Exchange, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Secret Santa, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becker has a Christmas surprise for Connor, but things don't go quite according to plan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for auntypam as part of the primeval_denial Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2009, for the prompt 'Would love a Becker/Connor and Stephen/Ryan Combo. I'd like mistletoe involved. Maybe a Holiday away together thing. And of course I want snow!!!'.

  
Connor stared eagerly out of the window and wondered if he could get away with asking if they were nearly there yet. For sure, they were nearly _somewhere_ – the landscape had changed drastically in the last half an hour, rolling hills becoming mountains, and the motorway narrowing to single-land traffic, and then a winding country road.  
  
His geography and sense of direction were good enough to tell him they were in south Wales, with the mountains suggesting the Brecon Beacons more specifically, but his lover had been remarkably close-mouthed about their actual destination, only repeating that it was a surprise whenever Connor asked.  
  
Oh, sod it, he was going to give it a go. Turning away from the scenery for a moment, Connor opened his mouth to singsong the question beloved of all children on long car trips.  
  
“The answer is yes.”  
  
“What? But you don’t know what I was going to ask.”  
  
Becker looked amused, although he didn’t take his eyes from the road. “They teach us mind-reading skills at Hereford. Didn’t you know?”  
  
“They do not!”  
  
“Well, okay, maybe not,” the soldier allowed. “Still, that didn’t stop me reading your mind just now. You’ve been fidgeting for the last twenty minutes.”  
  
“Oh. Sorry. Although, you know you could have avoided that by just telling me where we’re going.”  
  
“But that would have ruined the…”  
  
“…surprise, yes, I know.” Then Connor grinned. “So we are nearly there, then?”  
  
Becker rolled his eyes. “Like I said, yes,” he replied. “Should only be about another ten minutes.”  
  
The road continued winding its way between the mountains, climbing a little as it negotiated the foothills. It was wide enough for two cars, but only just, and Connor couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if they met a tractor or something coming the other way. Working on the anomaly project had got him out into the countryside a lot more, but he was still slightly mistrustful of it – there always seemed to be a lot of mud and wet and cold involved in a trip to the great outdoors.  
  
Thus his slight apprehension about where they might end up. He didn’t think Becker was crazy enough to take him camping in December, but you could never quite tell with these Special Forces soldiers. They had odd notions of what was fun and relaxing. And one thing Connor knew for sure was that Christmas in a tent halfway up a mountain would be neither of those things.  
  
They passed through a small village, nestled in the lee of a mountain. The short winter afternoon was already fading into dusk, and therefore there weren’t many people out and about. But the golden light spilling from many of the cottage windows, and from the pub door that opened as they drove past, made the place look friendly and inviting, and Connor wondered if this was where they were going to stop.  
  
But Becker continued through the village and out the other side, shortly afterwards taking a right hand turn. The new road was little more than a track, and the suspension on the car complained vehemently as Connor and Becker bounced around inside, Connor glad of the padding his hat provided as his head jolted against the ceiling more than once.  
  
But then suddenly the road surface smoothed out a little, and the track ended in front of a small, stone-built cottage that looked like it had come straight out of a watercolour painting.  
  
Becker halted the car in the small yard that fronted the cottage, and turned off the engine, although he left the headlights on to illuminate the front door. There were a few moments of silence while both men recovered from the bone-rattling ride, and then Becker looked over at Connor, something that might have been apprehension in his eyes.  
  
“Do you like it?” he asked.  
  
Connor looked at the cottage again. “It’s lovely,” he replied sincerely.  
  
“Do you think you could face being stuck in there with just me for company all Christmas?”  
  
Connor smiled at him, and then leaned over the gear stick to give his lover a soft kiss. “Of course I could,” he said. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better.” Then he chuckled. “Although I didn’t know you were such a romantic at heart – this is much better than a tent!”  
  
“A tent?” Becker looked quizzical, and then appeared to think better of enquiring further, shaking his head slightly and kissing Connor again before turning away and opening the car door.  
  
The action let a blast of cold air into the vehicle, and Connor shivered and resisted the urge to pull his coat tighter round himself and curl into a ball. Instead he steeled himself and opened his own door, clambering gracelessly out of the car and hunching his shoulders against the chill.  
  
“Let’s check the place out, and then we can see about getting the luggage in, okay?” Becker was saying. “The girl who took the booking at the holiday let agency said they’d leave us some basic supplies for the first night, so we should be all set.”  
  
He crouched down in front of the front door while Connor waited, shivering, and then stood again, now holding a key in his hand.  
  
“Under the flower pot,” he explained. “Not really the best security, but I guess not many people come up here.”  
  
Connor nodded, and wished the other man would hurry up. He could already feel his fingers going numb.  
  
There was another moment’s pause while Becker fumbled with the stiff lock, and then the door gave way as he pushed on it, and the pair crowded into the doorway.  
  
They were blocking the light still streaming from the car’s headlights, and once he’d crossed the threshold Connor stepped aside to allow a little more illumination into the cottage.  
  
The sight that met his eyes was not an encouraging one. The place looked like it hadn’t been inhabited in months, if not years, a thick layer of dust covering the rather ramshackle furniture of what appeared to be a sitting room.  
  
“What the hell is this?” Becker followed Connor into the room, looking around in surprise. “This place looks a wreck.” He flicked a switch on the wall by the open door, but the light bulb overhead remained resolutely dark.  
  
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Connor asked, only half joking.  
  
“Definitely.” Becker was scowling now, as he took in the rest of the cottage’s dilapidated state. “Something’s gone wrong here, and _someone’s_ going to hear about it.” He pulled out his mobile phone and pressed a few buttons before putting it away against in disgust. “No signal, of course.” Then he looked at Connor, his grimace dissolving into the something more apologetic. “I’m sorry, Conn. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Connor replied, not blaming Becker in the slightest, but aware that his teeth were starting to chatter. “Do you think we could get back in the car, though?”  
  
“Of course. Let’s go back to the village, yeah? We can get a drink in the pub and figure out what we’re going to do. Maybe I’ll be able to get in contact with the holiday let company from there too. I want some answers.”  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
The pub was blessedly warm, and Connor finally felt able to shrug his coat off as he sipped his shandy and watched the head on Becker’s beer dissolve away to nothing. The soldier was over by the bar, having been kindly offered the use of the pub’s phone by the landlady to call the holiday company. By the look on his face, the conversation didn’t seem to be going well, and Connor could tell he was resisting the urge to slam down the receiver when he hung up.  
  
Connor smiled encouragingly as Becker came back to their table, slumping down in his chair and taking a mouthful of beer with a dejected air.  
  
“Well,” he said, after a few seconds, “the good news is that I managed to get hold of someone from the letting company. Apparently I was very lucky, as they’re shutting up shop for the Christmas break in about half an hour.” His tone made it obvious that he didn’t agree with the company’s definition of ‘luck’.  
  
“But the bad news is there’s not a lot they can do about our current predicament. The person I spoke to was very apologetic. It seems the cottage I rented shouldn’t have been on the books at all this year – it’s due for renovation ready for the next summer season, and the girl who took my booking made a mistake. They promised me a full refund in the New Year, but weren’t able to offer us any alternatives this late in the day.”  
  
Becker sighed, and took another slug from his glass. “We don’t have much choice but to go home, I’m afraid. I guess we could see if the pub does bed and breakfast so we don’t have to make a start tonight, but that’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.”  
  
He looked so woebegone that Connor felt compelled to reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently. “It’s okay, honestly. I’m still a bit overwhelmed that you’d organised all this for us, anyway.”  
  
“Yeah, and I did a really good job of that, didn’t I?” Becker muttered morosely.  
  
“It’s not your fault,” said Connor firmly. “I’d be happy to spend Christmas with you anywhere, you know that. Even in a tent,” he added cheekily. “Although you’d probably have to work extra hard to keep me warm in those circumstances.”  
  
That drew a smile from Becker, and he squeezed Connor’s hand in return. “Thanks for not being too disappointed,” he said.  
  
“It’s fine. We’ll still have a good Christmas though, yeah?”  
  
Becker nodded. “Of course.”  
  
At that moment the door of the pub opened, allowing in a snatch of the darkening afternoon, and a couple more customers. Becker barely glanced at the two newcomers, but Connor, with a much better view of the door, felt his mouth drop open a little.  
  
“Oh my god, what are _they_ doing here?”  
  
The surprise in his voice got Becker’s attention, and now the soldier did turn to see what Connor was looking at. Namely one Stephen Hart and one Captain Tom Ryan.  
  
Stephen had spotted Connor at practically the same moment as Connor had spotted _him_ , and was already making a beeline for them, looking no less surprised by the turn of events. Ryan followed behind, his own expression a little more unreadable.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Stephen asked, stopping by their table.  
  
“I asked first,” Connor countered, drawing a slightly confused look from Stephen, although it quickly dissolved into an easy grin.  
  
“We’re staying in the area for the holidays – a cottage a couple of miles down the road, actually – and thought we’d drop in for a drink. Ryan knows the landlady and wanted to say hello. Can we assume you’re here for a similar reason? The holiday, that is, not the landlady.”  
  
“Ah, well…” Connor’s gaze flicked to Becker. “That was the idea,” he said hesitantly.  
  
Becker stirred. “Except that I mucked up the arrangements,” he added. “I suppose you could say we’re on our way home…”  
  
“Hard luck,” said Ryan, speaking for the first time. His eyes were sympathetic as they regarded Connor, but there was something in his tone that made Becker sit up a little straighter.  
  
“Yeah, well, the holiday company will be getting a proper talking to in the New Year, that’s for sure,” the other captain said seriously.  
  
“Perhaps we can buy you another drink before you go – one for the road, as it were,” Ryan continued.  
  
“I don’t think we’ve got time, really. We should be getting a shift on,” Becker replied, surprising Connor, since he’d been talking about a B&B only minutes earlier.  
  
“Well now, wait a minute, I think we can do a bit better than just a drink,” said Stephen suddenly, with the air and expression of someone who has had what they consider to be a really good idea. “If your accommodation has fallen through, why don’t you stay with us for the holidays? We’ve got more than enough room, and I reckon we can make sure a good time is had by all.”  
  
Becker looked dubious, but Connor could feel himself grinning. “Really? Do you mean it? That would be awesome!”  
  
“Of course. No reason why your Christmas should be ruined by hapless booking agents.” Stephen turned to Ryan. “What do you think?”  
  
“Sure,” Ryan said. “The more the merrier.”  
  
He sounded about as enthusiastic as Becker looked, and for a moment Connor wondered if they were _really_ welcome. But Stephen’s smile was bright and encouraging, and Connor turned pleading eyes on Becker.  
  
“Come on, we’ll have a great time. Weren’t we just saying that we could still have a good Christmas? This’ll be fun!”  
  
Becker sighed, but his lips were twitching. “All right. So long as it’s definitely okay with Stephen and Ryan. It beats driving back along the M4 in the dark, at any rate.” He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, sometimes it’s like dealing with a demanding child. Why do I do it?”  
  
“Because you can’t resist me,” said Connor promptly, winking.  
  
That made both Becker and Stephen laugh, and even Ryan cracked a smile.  
  
“Great, it’s all settled then,” said Stephen. “Why don’t we have that drink, Ryan can say hello to Mrs. Llewelyn, and then we can get going before night properly sets in. As I said, we’re only a couple of miles up the road, but the lanes can be a bit difficult to navigate if you don’t know them, especially in the dark.”  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this.”  
  
Stephen and Ryan were standing in the doorway watching Becker and Connor unload their stuff from Becker’s car. The lights were on in the cottage behind them, but the driveway was dark, and when he sneaked a sideways glance at his lover, Stephen found that Ryan’s face was in shadow, and that he couldn’t tell what he was thinking.  
  
“Done what?”  
  
“I shouldn’t have invited them here without consulting you first. I didn’t think.”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
“No, it’s not,” Stephen insisted. “This is your house, and I shouldn’t have presumed.”  
  
Now Ryan turned to look at him, and with a certain amount of relief Stephen noted that he was smiling a little.  
  
“I want you to think of this as your house too, you know. You don’t have to ask my permission.”  
  
“But I know you were planning a quiet Christmas, just the two of us. This doesn’t really fit in with that. ” Stephen nodded towards their two unexpected guests again. “I _am_ sorry.”  
  
Ryan biffed him lightly on the shoulder. “It really _is_ fine. I can’t say that those two would have been my first choice of holiday companions, but I’m sure we’ll rub along fine. And besides, what kind of bastard would I have looked like if I’d told them they had to go home after all? Just because I’m in the Special Forces, doesn’t mean I have a heart of stone, you know.”  
  
Stephen grinned. “I’m well aware of _that_. It’s nice to know that not even the big tough soldiers are immune to Connor’s puppy dog eyes.”  
  
Ryan chuckled. “I think they could be classed as a deadly weapon,” he acknowledged. His eyes flicked towards Connor and Becker. “And there’s definitely someone else who’s not immune to them, as well.”  
  
Stephen followed his gaze, and laughed too as he realised that Connor had prevailed upon Becker to carry the heaviest of the bags, whilst all he held was a small rucksack.  
  
Stepping forward, Ryan held out a hand. “Here, let me help you with some of that,” he said to Becker.  
  
The other captain looked momentarily surprised at the offer, but then handed over the holdall he was clutching in his right hand, leaving him able to steady the larger backpack he had slung over his shoulders. “Thanks,” he said shortly.  
  
“Don’t mention it,” Ryan replied, and then grimaced. “Christ, Connor, what have you got in here, your entire fossil collection?”  
  
Connor grinned rather sheepishly. “Um, just a few books and things…”  
  
Ryan grunted sceptically as he took a firmer grip on the bag and headed back towards Stephen, who stood aside to allow him through the door. “You owe me one for this, Hart,” he muttered ominously as he passed.  
  
Stephen grinned as he shepherded Connor and Becker through the door too. Now there was a threat with possibilities.  
  
He followed the other three into the cottage, shutting the front door to block out the cold, dark evening, and found Connor standing in the middle of the sitting room, looking around in amazement.  
  
“Wow, this place is brilliant!” the young man said delightedly.  
  
The inside of the cottage couldn’t have portrayed the typical country dwelling more accurately if it had tried. The sitting room had a low ceiling adorned with beams of dark wood, below which were arranged two comfortable-looking sofas draped with brightly coloured throws. The sofas themselves stood on a slate flagged floor, areas of which were covered with rugs of similar bright hues, and both faced towards a large fireplace that, while currently dark, would warm the whole room when it was lit.  
  
Completing the effect was a large bookcase against one wall, the shelves stuffed alternately with books and knick-knacks, and in the corner beside the fireplace a Christmas tree, as yet undecorated, but obviously real, and not fake.  
  
Ryan looked pleased by the praise, although he still shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Most of the décor is down to my Gran,” he said. “This was her cottage – she died three years ago and left it to me. I always liked the cosy feel of it, so I pretty much left it as it was.”  
  
Connor grinned. “It didn’t strike me as quite your decorating style,” he said cheekily. “But it is amazing.”  
  
Stephen turned to share a smile with Becker at Connor’s irrepressible enthusiasm, but then realised that the soldier didn’t seem to be quite as happy as his partner. His expression was easy to read, and Stephen knew that this was exactly the kind of place Becker had hoped to surprise Connor with for their own quiet Christmas together.  
  
“Well, how about we get you two settled in, then?” he said quickly, before Connor could notice Becker’s uneasiness. “You to can have the room over the kitchen. There’s a separate staircase leading up to it – a bit narrow, I’m afraid – so we won’t get under each other’s feet too much. There’s even a separate small bathroom up there, although we might have to check the hot water supply.”  
  
“I’ll figure out something to eat,” said Ryan. “We’re okay for supplies, but we might have to make a quick trip to the shop in the village in the morning to make sure we don’t run short now there’s more of us.”  
  
Stephen nodded, and then led their guests through to the kitchen. “Come on, it’s this way. The stairs are behind the door in the corner. We’ll need to fling a few sheets on the bed, but we’ll soon make it nice and snug for you…”  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
By the time they came back downstairs again, Ryan had started assembling the ingredients for a stir-fry. Connor immediately offered to help him, although it quickly became apparent that his culinary skills were based more on enthusiasm than technique.  
  
Becker, also apparently desperate to help, started laying the table, fishing around in drawers and cupboards until he located the cutlery, placemats, and condiments. Stephen headed into the sitting room to light the fire, so it would be well ablaze by the time they finished eating. Connor incessant chatter followed him through from the kitchen, and Stephen grinned to himself as he imagined Ryan’s fond eye-roll at the young man’s exuberance.  
  
Dinner was a friendly enough affair, helped along by Ryan’s excellent cooking. Connor had already expressed his surprise at the captain’s skill several times, and was happily wolfing down the results, but Becker had ruefully admitted that his own ability in the kitchen was rather lacking, before attacking his plate of foot with equal gusto.  
  
Stephen watched the soldier carefully, very aware that he still hadn’t completely relaxed, although there was an obvious softening in his expression every time he looked at Connor. He was also aware that Becker had most likely picked up on his scrutiny, although the other man chose not to acknowledge it.  
  
When they’d all finished eating, Becker offered to do the washing up, demurring emphatically when Stephen tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary.  
  
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do after that lovely meal. And the fact that you’ve offered us a place to stay for the holidays.”  
  
Recognising that Becker felt the need to repay them in some way, however small, Stephen didn’t argue further, but simply nodded.  
  
“Good.” Becker stood up and started to collect plates. “Connor, you can help me.”  
  
“But I helped with the cooking…”  
  
“Connor…”  
  
Becker’s tone was now fondly exasperated, and Connor grinned at him before starting to grab the empty glasses from in front of Stephen and Ryan.  
  
“Fine, fine, I’m helping, I’m helping…”  
  
As Becker chuckled, it occurred to Stephen that he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the soldier laugh before. The young captain was normally rather serious and restrained – clearly Connor’s influence had changed that somewhat.  
  
“Come on, you.”  
  
He looked round to find Ryan holding out a hand. Grabbing it, Stephen was hauled to his feet, and then propelled through to the sitting room, where the fire had indeed taken a good hold, and was filling the room with warmth.  
  
Ryan chucked another couple of logs on the blaze, and then dropped on to the sofa beside Stephen, putting his arms round the other man’s shoulders and pulling him too him.  
  
“Bit of an odd couple, aren’t they?” he commented. “I wouldn’t have picked it, myself.”  
  
Stephen nodded. “Me either,” he replied. “Although I think they’re good for each other.” He paused as Becker’s laughter once more rang out, accompanying a splash and an outraged squeak from Connor. Then, “You’re not Becker’s biggest fan, are you?” he asked carefully.  
  
Ryan sighed. “It’s not that,” he said. “I just don’t know him, that’s all. None of the lads do. He keeps to himself a bit too much. In our line of work, you need to know that you can trust your fellow soldiers absolutely.”  
  
“And you don’t trust him?”  
  
“I do. He seems like a perfectly capable soldier, and I _do_ trust him to watch my back. It’s just…” Ryan sighed again. “It’s hard to explain. I just don’t get that same sense of intuitive trust as I do with Lyle and the rest of the lads.”  
  
“But you’ve known them a lot longer,” Stephen pointed out. “Becker’s only been on the project for eight months, whereas you’ve been working with the others for years. I know he can seem a bit stand-offish, but I think you should give him a chance.”  
  
Ryan shifted slightly until he could look Stephen in the eye. “You seem very keen to defend him,” he said. “Should I be worried?”  
  
Stephen chuckled. “Hardly. I just think he’s a good guy, that’s all. He must be, with the shine Connor’s taken to him. They seem very happy together.”  
  
“They do,” Ryan admitted. “Although I still think they’re a bit chalk and cheese…”  
  
“Well, they do say that opposites attract.”  
  
“So what does that say about us, then?”  
  
“It says that I’m the handsome, charming, debonair scientist, while you’re my gruff, taciturn, salt of the earth soldier.”  
  
“Oh, thanks very much!”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Stephen grinned, and then leaned in to kiss his lover, pressing him back against the sofa cushions until a renewed round of laughter from the kitchen reminded them they weren’t alone, and they separated reluctantly.  
  
“No ravishing me on the sofa – we have company,” Ryan warned. But his eyes were twinkling, and Stephen knew that Ryan had come to terms with their slightly more crowded Christmas.  
  
However, it wasn’t long before Stephen found out that, despite Ryan’s acceptance of the turn of events, he was still intent in extracting payment for Stephen’s role in it.  
  
The rest of the evening passed peacefully. There was no television in the cottage – something that had made Connor’s eyes widen when he’d realised – but there was a broadband connection, both Ryan and Stephen deeming it necessary to have access to their emails. So Connor had happily ensconced himself on the other sofa with his laptop, and delved into who knew what geeky online activity.  
  
Becker had taken up residence next to him, his nose buried in Dan Brown’s latest offering, something Ryan had teased him gently about until Stephen had ‘accidentally’ let slip Ryan’s penchant for Matthew Reilly’s implausible thrillers, a revelation that had resulted in some return teasing from the other soldier. Stephen knew he was going reap the consequences of his words later, but it was worth it to see Becker opening up a little.  
  
Eventually, however, Connor had shut his laptop and yawned loudly, a contagious action that immediately set everyone else off.  
  
“Time for bed, I think,” Becker said. “We were on the road half the day, and I could do with a decent night’s sleep.”  
  
Connor yawned again and nodded, stumbling to his feet and only just managing not to lose his grip on the laptop.  
  
Goodnights were exchanged, and then Becker and Connor disappeared through the door to the kitchen, heading towards their own room.  
  
The fire had died down considerably, and Stephen watched as Ryan banked it up to make it safe, and then started switching off the lamps. He levered himself off the sofa and started up their own staircase, already dragging his shirt off over his head as he entered his and Ryan’s bedroom.  
  
Footsteps behind him told him that Ryan had quickly followed him upstairs, and as he dropped his shirt on to a chair in the corner, hands settled on his now bare shoulders.  
  
“I hope you don’t think you’re getting to sleep any time soon, Hart,” Ryan said in a pointed voice. “You owe me one, remember?”  
  
Stephen grinned, and then turned to face his lover. “I remember.” His grin took on a speculative edge. “How do you want me?”  
  
Ryan pretended to consider for a moment. “On your knees, I think,” he said eventually. “To start with, anyway.”  
  
Leaning in, Stephen gave him a quick, hard kiss, and then dropped gracefully to his knees, his nimble fingers making quick work of the fastening on Ryan’s jeans as Ryan stripped off his top and flung it on the same chair as Stephen’s shirt.  
  
Ryan was already hard inside his boxers, and Stephen ran his fingers lightly over the cloth-covered bulge, making Ryan hiss and his hips twitch forward.  
  
Licking his lips, Stephen slowly pulled down Ryan’s jeans and underwear until his cock sprang free. He breathed deep, inhaling the musky scent of his lover’s arousal, and then slowly leaned forward, taking the head of Ryan’s cock in his mouth and sucking gently.  
  
Ryan groaned, and his hips twitched again. Stephen smiled around his mouthful, and then slid his lips further down the shaft, his tongue flicking at the underside of Ryan’s cock in the way he knew his lover liked.  
  
He felt Ryan’s hand settle on his head, his finger’s tangling in Stephen’s hair, tugging at it slightly, although not hard enough to hurt. Stephen got the message, and set about paying off his debt in earnest, employing all the tricks he knew to elicit the moans and gasps he loved to hear from Ryan. He would never get tired of sucking Ryan’s cock, and he was determined to make his repayment a good one.  
  
But suddenly the hand on his head was pulling him away instead of pressing him forward, and Stephen let Ryan’s cock slide from his mouth with a disappointed pop.  
  
He looked up, intent on protesting, but the words died on his lips when he saw the glint in Ryan’s eyes.  
  
“Take off the rest of your clothes and get off your hands and knees on the bed,” Ryan instructed. He grinned evilly as Stephen rose to his feet. “And you’d better make sure you stay quiet, now we’ve got guests in the house…”  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
Becker regarded the heaped bedclothes that he knew concealed his lover, and smiled to himself. They were unalike in many ways, but one of the chief ones was their differing opinions on the right time to get up in the mornings. Becker was an early riser, while Connor would take any opportunity to snatch a little extra time in bed.  
  
This morning, however, Becker had no option but to wake Connor up much earlier than he knew he’d appreciate.  
  
“Connor.”  
  
No response.  
  
“ _Connor_.” Becker poked the bedclothes this time, and was rewarded with an annoyed grumble, followed by Connor poking his head out over the top of the duvet, glaring at him balefully.  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“I just wanted to let you know, Stephen and Ryan have invited me to go for a run with them.”  
  
“A run?” Connor wrinkled his nose in a manner that Becker found rather adorable. The young man knew what running meant. “What time is it?”  
  
“Seven o’clock.”  
  
“ _Seven_? You’ve woken me up at seven o’clock? At _Christmas_?”  
  
“Well, I wanted to let you know where we were going. I didn’t want you to be worried if you woke up and found we’d all disappeared.”  
  
“Okay, one, how likely is it that I would have woken up before you got back if you _hadn’t_ poked me awake yourself just now? And two, couldn’t you have just left me a note or something?”  
  
“Couldn’t find any paper,” Becker lied, knowing that Connor wouldn’t accept his boyfriend’s desire to see him in all his rumpled, sleepy cuteness as a good reason to wake him up this early. Then he grinned. “And besides, I thought I’d check to see if you wanted to come. I wouldn’t have wanted you to feel left out.”  
  
All that earned him was another, even more baleful glare, before Connor burrowed back under the duvet, words that could have been, “As if…” meeting Becker’s ears as he did so.  
  
Becker suppressed a chuckle, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of Connor’s head, the only part of him that was still visible, before standing up to leave the room.  
  
“I’ll see you later, then,” he said over his shoulder, and laughed at the muffled snort he received in return.  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
The run lasted about an hour, and at the end of it Becker was breathing heavily, but pleased with the way he’d handled it. Being in the Brecon Beacons obviously made the route a lot hillier than the pavements and streets he was used to pounding at home, but his fitness had stood the test well, and he was feeling pleasantly energised.   
  
He was also, however, glad to see that his two companions were in a similar state to himself. Stephen was almost as fit as all the soldiers on the anomaly project, but Becker could tell that it was mostly his pride that had kept him going for the final ten minutes of the run. And while Ryan obviously knew the land round about well, even he was showing signs of the effect the rougher terrain had taken on him.  
  
The three men paused outside the door of the cottage to get their respective breaths back, and take off their running shoes so they didn’t traipse welsh mud into the building.  
  
“I’m calling first dibs on the shower,” Stephen said, earning a grimace from Ryan. He grinned unrepentantly, and then turned to Becker. “I should count yourself lucky – at least you don’t have to fight with anyone for _your_ shower.”  
  
Becker grinned back. “Knowing all our luck, Connor will have used all the hot water,” he replied. “Although actually he probably hasn’t dragged himself out of bed yet.”  
  
But when they all trooped into the cottage, they were met by the unmistakeable smell of frying bacon. Ryan’s eyebrows shot up, and he immediately made a beeline for the kitchen, his expression slightly worried. Becker and Stephen exchanged quick glances, and then followed him hurriedly.  
  
However, when they all pushed through the kitchen door, the expected scene of carnage was nowhere to be seen. Instead Connor was calmly standing in front of the stove with two frying pans on the go – one full of bacon, and the other full of sausages.  
  
He looked over his shoulder as the other three men entered, and smiled almost smugly. “Morning,” he said. “Bacon butty, anyone?”  
  
“I thought you couldn’t cook,” Stephen said, at almost the same moment that Becker came out with, “I thought you’d still be in bed.”  
  
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Well, funnily enough I found it a bit difficult to get back to sleep after _someone_ woke me up,” he said, looking pointedly at Becker. Then he turned his attention to Stephen. “And while I may not be a whiz in the kitchen, I _can_ manage something as simple as bacon sandwiches.”  
  
Becker and Stephen both grinned sheepishly, and Ryan laughed. “Well you’ll get no complaints from me,” he said, sitting down at the table. “I think we’ll all happily forgo our showers for a little while if this is the alternative. Thanks, Connor.”  
  
Connor bestowed a beatific smile on the soldier that made Stephen snort and Becker feel even more sheepish, before loading up a plate with bacon and sausages and placing it on the table next to a dish piled high with thick slices of crusty white bread.  
  
There was silence for some time while everyone munched on their bacon butties, Connor putting away just as much food as any of the other three even though he hadn’t been for a strenuous run. Not for the first time Becker eyed his lover jealously, wondering how Connor managed to hold on to his slim frame despite the amount he ate and the little exercise he did. Although, he reflected, they did all spend a lot of time running away from angry dinosaurs, which was pretty good exercise itself, although not a programme he suspected many fitness experts would recommend.  
  
This time around the washing up was left for later, and Ryan and Stephen disappeared in the direction of their bedroom, and no doubt to a further debate about who would get to use their shower first.  
  
Becker himself headed up the other stairs to his and Connor’s part of the house, and after a shower that was accompanied by a soundtrack of creaking, clunking pipes, returned downstairs to find Connor surveying the Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room thoughtfully.  
  
“That needs some decorations on it,” he pronounced, as Becker came up behind him and slid his arms around his lover’s waist. “You can’t really get into the Christmas spirit without decorations.”  
  
Becker nodded. He’d never really been much of one for Christmas trees and tinsel himself, feeling it was a bit pointless for someone who lived alone, and spent more time out of their flat than in it anyway, even at Christmas. But Connor seemed to be one of those people who really got into the Christmas spirit, and privately he hoped that Ryan _did_ have some decorations somewhere about the place – Connor would be very disappointed otherwise.  
  
“I normally leave putting the decorations up until the last minute,” said a voice behind them.  
  
Becker turned slightly to find Ryan standing just inside the sitting room door, with Stephen peering over his shoulder. Both of them had damp hair, proving they’d both showered, but that fact that it had taken them hardly any longer than Becker’s own shower led him to suspect that they might have resolved their argument by sharing. Then he decided that he really didn’t want to follow that train of thought any further, and instead pasted an enquiring expression on to his face.  
  
“It was a tradition of my Gran’s,” Ryan explained. “She thought Christmas decorations were superfluous before Christmas itself, so she always left them until Christmas Eve. Somehow I’ve never really got out of that habit myself.”  
  
“Well, it’s Christmas Eve today,” Connor pointed out, and Becker smiled fondly at the enthusiasm in his voice.  
  
Ryan smiled too. “That it is,” he acknowledged. He thought for a moment. “Look, we still need to stock up on a few extra things down in the village, so why don’t Becker and I go and do that, while you and Stephen make a start on the decorations? Stephen can show you where they are. And I’m sure you’ll do a much better job of it than me, anyway.”  
  
“Really?” Connor looked delighted. “Awesome.”  
  
Becker felt a brief flash of dismay at the thought of him and Ryan spending time together without the buffer of Connor and Stephen, but then resolutely squashed it. They were both adults. It would be fine.  
  
“I’ll drive, if you like,” he offered to Ryan. “My car’s got a bigger boot anyway.”  
  
“We’re not going to need to pick up that much stuff,” Ryan objected.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Becker replied, smiling slightly. “I’m not sure you appreciate how much Connor can eat.”  
  
“Oi!” Connor smacked him on the arm, but the blow lacked any force, and Becker merely winked at him.  
  
Ryan and Stephen chuckled, and then Stephen grabbed Connor’s wrist and pulled him away.  
  
“Come on, Conn, you can stand at the bottom of the ladder while I pass the boxes down from attic.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
As he had expected, the short drive down to the village was a quiet one. Ryan still wasn’t sure why he’d invited Becker along on the shopping trip, except that he kept remembering Stephen’s words of the night before, and much as he hated to admit it, he knew his lover was right. He needed to give the other captain a chance, particularly if they were going to be spending Christmas together.  
  
Becker parked the car in the small village square as directed, but Ryan paused a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt. “Don’t be surprised if anyone we meet starts asking you all sorts of questions,” he warned Becker. “The people here are lovely, but they’ve elevated nosiness to an art form. My Gran lived here for years, and I’m pretty well known too. So just watch out.”  
  
“Okay, thanks for the warning.” Becker grinned briefly. “Does this mean I’m going to find out all sorts of secrets about you?”  
  
Ryan grinned back, amused rather than offended. “Not if I have any say in the matter. The one good thing about it though is that the village shop will definitely still be open. People going in and out is a prime way to get the gossip!”  
  
Together, they got out of the car and headed towards the shop in question. The bell above the door jangled as they entered, and plump, homely looking woman behind the counter looked up quickly.  
  
“Why, Thomas Ryan, as I live and breathe! It’s an age since we’ve seen you around here.”  
  
“Morning, Mrs. Williams,” Ryan replied. “It’s lovely to see you. It must be a few months, at least. I think it was summer the last time I was here.”  
  
“With that nice young man – Stephen wasn’t it?” Mrs. Williams’ eyes alighted pointedly on Becker, quick to discern that he was in fact _not_ Stephen. Ryan smothered a smile as Becker shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.  
  
“This is Captain Becker,” he said quickly. “He’s a colleague, and a friend of mine. He and his partner are staying with Stephen and I for Christmas. Their own plans unfortunately fell through so we had to come to the rescue.”  
  
“Well, isn’t that nice of you, Tom. You’re a lovely young man, I’ve always said so. A credit to your Gran.”  
  
Now it was Becker’s turn to look faintly amused, as Ryan felt his cheeks turn a little pink at Mrs. Williams’ unbridled praise. Mrs. Williams smiled in a knowing way, and then turned her attention back to Becker again.  
  
And how are you enjoying your visit so far?” she asked.  
  
“Very much indeed,” Becker said, with every appearance of sincerity. “It’s a lovely part of the world. I’m glad Ryan and Stephen offered to put us up.”  
  
“You must come down to the Boxing Day knees-up at the pub,” Mrs. Williams continued. “We do it every year, and we’d love to see you all there.”  
  
“Well, I…thank you very much.”  
  
“We’ll be there, of course, Mrs. Williams,” Ryan interjected. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  
  
“Well now, that’s wonderful. It’ll be nice to see some new faces.” Mrs. Williams smiled again, and then fixed her attention on the list in Ryan’s hands. “Now, what can I get for you today, Tom? We’re running low on a few things, but I’m sure we’ll be able to sort you out…”  
  
Loading bags laden with extra veg, several packets of sausages, and enough locally made Christmas pudding and cake to sink a battleship, into the back of the car, Ryan grinned at Becker.  
  
“What did I tell you? Gossip is their life around here. It’ll soon get around that we’ve got a couple of extras staying with us for Christmas. And when Mrs. Williams talks to Mrs. Llewelyn in the pub, and they work out that our guests are the same people we were seen talking to in there yesterday, well tongues will really wag.”  
  
“They don’t have issues with, er, men…”  
  
“Not a bit of it,” Ryan replied briskly. “They’re all well aware of mine and Stephen’s relationship. You heard Mrs. Williams describe Stephen as a ‘nice young man’ – although what she knows in that respect that I don’t might bear investigating. The only reason I didn’t specify that your partner was Connor was because I didn’t want to deprive them of the opportunity and fun of working it out for themselves.” He grinned again, and Becker grinned back.  
  
“Fair enough,” the other soldier said. Then, abruptly, he stuck a hand out. “I meant what I said to Mrs. Williams,” he continued. “I’m glad you offered us a place to stay, even if, I think, neither of us were that sure about it to start with.”  
  
Feeling a little bit silly, Ryan nonetheless shook the proffered hand. “It’s fine, honestly. I won’t deny that I was a little bit uncertain to start with, but I think Stephen did the right thing, inviting you and Connor. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better, after all.”  
  
As Becker nodded, Ryan reflected to himself that Stephen would probably be rather surprised at the way he’d unbent so quickly. But then again, it _was_ Christmas, and the season of goodwill towards all men, after all.  
  
He looked at his watch. “We should be getting back. Connor and Hart have had more than enough time to make a complete mess of things, so we’d better go and do some damage limitation.”  
  
But whatever Ryan was expecting back at the cottage, it wasn’t what they found.  
  
Occupied with juggling shopping bags and door keys, he didn’t notice the transformation to his sitting room until a soft exclamation from Becker behind him made him look up.  
  
It was…wonderful. The tree was simply decorated with white fairy lights and gold and red baubles, along with the odd decoration that had held some sentimental value for Ryan’s Gran, and now for Ryan himself. A second set of fairy lights wound their way across the stonework about the fireplace, and a third set adorned the bookcase. And on the small table by the kitchen door someone had set a vase (which Ryan hadn’t known he owned) stuffed with architectural-looking twigs obviously gathered from the garden, and from which hung the smaller baubles from Ryan’s collection of decorations.  
  
In short, it all looked just like it had in the days when Ryan’s Gran had been responsible for doing the decorating. Absurdly, he felt tears prick at his eyes, and he cleared his throat loudly in an effort to disguise his sudden upsurging of emotion.  
  
“This looks amazing,” he said quickly, not _entirely_ sure that his voice wasn’t shaking. “You two have worked wonders. I didn’t know I had this many decorations.”  
  
“That’s because you never bother to look in all the boxes properly,” Stephen teased, although the expression in his eyes indicated that he wasn’t fooled by Ryan’s cover-up.  
  
“I’m not sure I could have done this good a job even if I _had_ found all the necessary materials,” Ryan admitted. “Thanks, you two.” He cleared his throat again, and then made a show of looking down at the bags still clasped in his hands. “Well, I’d better put this lot away. Hart, grab the other two from Becker, and come and help me, would you?”  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
Becker watched as Ryan and Stephen disappeared quickly into the kitchen. He was learning a lot of surprising things about his fellow Special Forces captain today. Ryan had clearly been slightly overwhelmed by Stephen and Connor’s efforts on the decorating front, and that, coupled with the reception he’d received in the village earlier, indicated how attached he was to this place. And obviously had been to his Gran. Not that he ever would have shown it if he hadn’t been caught off guard just now, Becker suspected.  
  
Then he became aware that Connor was watching him rather anxiously, and raised an enquiring eyebrow in the young man’s direction.  
  
“I, er…do _you_ like it?” Connor asked, waving an arm around at the Christmas wonderland he’d had a hand in creating.  
  
Becker smiled at the hopeful, faintly worried, tone in his lover’s voice, and nodded emphatically. “I think it looks lovely, Connor. You’ve done a fantastic job.”  
  
Connor flushed slightly at the praise, and then grinned. “And look up there,” he said, pointing towards the ceiling.  
  
Obediently, Becker looked up, and then had to laugh when he spotted the large sprig of mistletoe hanging from a hook in one of the beams.  
  
“Where did you get that?”  
  
“From the back garden. You’ve got to have mistletoe, otherwise there’s nothing to kiss under.”  
  
“Do we _need_ something to kiss under?”  
  
“Yes,” said Connor promptly. “It’s traditional.” A faint pout marred his features as he obviously entertained the suspicion that he was being mocked.  
  
Becker shook his head fondly and took a couple of steps forward until he was standing directly under the mistletoe. Then he crooked a finger at Connor. “Come on, then. I’m not one to stand in the way of tradition.”  
  
Now smiling, Connor came willingly into his arms. Becker looked at him for a moment. “You _are_ having a good Christmas, aren’t you?” he asked. “You don’t mind being here instead of us being alone?”  
  
“Wherever you are is where I want to be,” Connor said firmly, and then winked at him, acknowledging the sappiness of the statement.  
  
Becker chuckled. “Good. I’m glad. Because I have to say that if we had been in our own cottage, I sincerely doubt I could have rustled up anything as good as this.” He gestured towards the tree and the fairy lights, much as Connor had done.  
  
“That wouldn’t have mattered,” Connor insisted. “I just want to be with you.” Then he grinned. “Now, since we _are_ under the mistletoe, I think there needs to be less talking and more kissing!”  
  
They were still kissing several moments later when a pointed cough alerted them to the fact they weren’t alone. Becker started guiltily, and looked round quickly to find Stephen watching them from the kitchen doorway with undisguised amusement.  
  
“Don’t stop on our account.”  
  
Embarrassed, Becker could feel himself blushing. “Sorry,” he murmured, trying not to catch Connor’s eye. He could tell Connor was a lot less bothered about being caught in the act than he was, and was actually trying not to laugh.  
  
“No need to apologise.” Ryan had pushed past Stephen into the sitting room, and was fishing around in a cupboard for something. “We’re all friends here.”  
  
“Does this mean I can ravish you on the sofa, after all?” Stephen asked hopefully.  
  
Connor _did_ laugh at that, and even Becker smiled a little. Ryan straightened up, holding something in his hands.  
  
“No,” he said shortly. “Apart from anything else, I don’t think the sofa could take the strain.” But he was grinning too, and as he set the object he was holding in his hands on the small table next to the vase of twigs, Becker saw it was a nutcracker, traditionally shaped to look like a dashing soldier.  
  
“I knew there was something missing,” Ryan explained, as he saw Becker looking. “My Gran had it for years. I think it was passed down to her from her mother, my great grandmother. For some reason it’s always been kept in this cupboard instead of with the rest of the decorations.” He fixed Connor with a mock-stern glare. “And it’s _for show_ only, not for actually cracking nuts. You damage it, and I’ll damage you.”  
  
Connor snapped off a clumsy salute. “Sir, yes sir!”  
  
Everyone laughed, and then Ryan looked at his watch. “Right, I think it’s about time we got started on lunch. And then after that you lot can help me sort the veggies for Christmas dinner tomorrow so we don’t have to worry about them in the morning.” He looked at Becker. “I hope you’re adept at peeling potatoes, Captain.”  
  
Becker sighed as he followed everyone else through to the kitchen. Some things about being in the army never changed…  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
Connor looked up from his laptop to find Stephen reading a book (that looked, despite his mockery of the previous day, suspiciously like Becker’s Dan Brown novel), and Ryan and Becker regarding each other through narrowed eyes over hands of cards.  
  
“What are they playing?” he asked, nudging Stephen with his toe.  
  
“Gin rummy,” Stephen replied, not looking up from the book.  
  
“What? Seriously?” Connor looked back at the two soldiers just as Becker slapped some cards on the table with a look of triumph. Ryan scowled, and glared at his cards determinedly.  
  
“Yes, seriously.” Stephen dropped the book into his lap and grinned at Connor. “Don’t mock it – this is the genteel equivalent of arm wrestling over a lighted candle or broken glass. The loser has to do all the washing up after Christmas dinner tomorrow.”  
  
“So who _is_ winning?”  
  
“I am,” Becker interjected, as he picked up a card from the pile.  
  
“Oh…good.” Connor watched for a little while, then asked, “Can Stephen and I play? Maybe we could have a tournament.”  
  
“No,” answered Ryan shortly.  
  
“Don’t be mean,” Stephen said, seeing the kicked-puppy look on Connor’s face. “You just don’t want us to play because I always beat you.” He winked, and Connor spluttered with laughter.  
  
“You cheat.”  
  
“I do not! You’re just a sore loser.” Unfortunately for Ryan, Stephen’s point was rather proved a few seconds later when Becker dropped the rest of his cards on to the table.  
  
“Gin.”  
  
“Bugger. I demand a rematch. Stephen distracted me.”  
  
Stephen turned to Connor. “See what I mean?”  
  
“Fine. You two can play. Maybe one of you can take Mr. Big Shot over there down a peg or two.”  
  
But Becker merely smiled complacently, and started gathering up the cards for the next round.  
  
The Gin Rummy tournament – which Ryan lost rather spectacularly, and Becker won, although he only narrowly beat Stephen – was followed by an equally vicious game of Monopoly, played on an old set that Ryan dug out of a cupboard. Connor surprised everyone (including himself) by turning out to be something of a property shark, his hotels on Park Lane and Mayfair, as well as several other properties around the board, bankrupting Stephen, Ryan, and Becker in quick succession.  
  
Becker looked sadly at his small pile of mortgaged properties as he handed them, and what was left of his cash, over to Connor. “Remind me never to play board games with you again,” he said forlornly.  
  
Connor smiled, and leaned over to give his lover a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, it was pure fluke,” he assured Becker lightly. “I’m horrible at Cluedo, for example.” His grin widened. “So what do I get for winning, then?”  
  
Ryan levered himself to his feet, and ruffled Connor’s hair as he walked past him. “Our undying respect,” he said dryly. Strangely, the soldier seemed a lot less bothered by his loss at Monopoly than he had by his disgraceful performance at cards. Connor suspected it had something to do with the fact that Becker and Stephen had fallen just as hard.  
  
“Hey, look, it’s snowing.”  
  
The winter afternoon was fast draining of light, but they could still all see the fat white flakes drifting down as they crowded round Ryan at the window. And even as they watched the intensity of the snow increased. It wasn’t a blizzard, but the ground was already looking white, and the weather didn’t show any signs of changing.  
  
“We aren’t going to get snowed in, are we?” Connor asked worriedly.  
  
“It’s unlikely,” Ryan said. “We might get a bit of a covering, but there’s a salt bin around the corner of the house we can use on the yard and driveway. And the roads normally stay quite clear.” He smiled. “We’ll probably get enough for a snowball fight tomorrow, though.”  
  
“Really? Awesome!”  
  
Becker groaned theatrically. “Oh, don’t go putting ideas in his head.”  
  
Connor stuck his tongue out at the other man, and then returned to watching the snow through the window. The fall continued for nearly an hour, blanketing the garden in white, much as Ryan had predicted. But as darkness started to gather properly, he became aware that there were fewer snowflakes in the air than there had been, and a few minutes later they had stopped falling altogether.  
  
Becker tapped him on the shoulder, and Connor turned to find the soldier holding out a glass of mulled wine to him.  
  
“Thought you might want this,” he offered. “Ryan made it himself, using some secret recipe of his Gran’s that he won’t divulge even to Stephen.”  
  
Connor took the glass and sipped at the steaming wine, the flavours mellow on his tongue. “Well, you can tell Ryan from me that his Gran’s secret recipe is delicious.”  
  
Becker took a sip of his own wine, and then slid his arm around Connor’s shoulder, peering past Connor out of the window. “Snow stopped?”  
  
“Yeah, a few minutes ago,” Connor replied, snuggling against Becker contentedly. Then he smiled mischievously. “You know, Ryan might have been joking about a snowball fight tomorrow, but I wasn’t. And I feel I should point out that I’m very good in a snowball fight.”  
  
“Oh, so you think you can hold your own against two specially trained soldiers?”  
  
“Easy.” Connor made a dismissive gesture, and Becker snorted with laughter.  
  
“That sounds like a challenge to me. You’re going down, Temple.”  
  
“Not if you go down first.”  
  
“You wish, geek boy.”  
  
“I know so, Captain Smug.”  
  
But their good-natured argument was then interrupted by an unexpected knock at the door. Connor and Becker turned away from the window in surprise just as Ryan and Stephen came through from the kitchen, looking equally puzzled.  
  
“Who on earth can that be?” Stephen said.  
  
“Someone who’s got lost in the snow, looking for directions?” Becker hazarded.  
  
“I doubt anyone would want to come up the driveway in the dark and the snow without knowing how long it was.”  
  
Ryan, meanwhile, had crossed the room and was opening the door, putting an end to Stephen and Becker’s speculation. For a moment all the four men could see were two indistinct humanoid shapes on the step. Then the shapes stepped forward into the light flooding out of the cottage, and became two women, one of whom Connor recognised as Mrs. Llewelyn, the landlady from the pub.  
  
“Good evening, Tom. How are you?”  
  
“Er, fine thanks, Mrs. Llewelyn. What brings you here?”  
  
“Well, I thought I’d bring you a few of my homemade mince pies. And Ada here has brought some of her famous chocolate truffles.”  
  
The other woman handed the slightly bemused Ryan a square container with a breezy disclaimer to let her, “have the box back whenever it was convenient.”  
  
“You mean you came up here in the snow?” Connor let the words slip out before he could stop himself, and suddenly found himself on the receiving end of two very pointed, very _curious_ looking stares.  
  
“Well, of course, dear,” said Mrs. Llewelyn. “Why shouldn’t we?”  
  
“You didn’t need to come up here on our account,” Ryan put in quickly. “It’s not very nice out there, after all.”  
  
“Nonsense,” replied the pub landlady briskly. “My old Land Rover can easily cope with a bit of snow. And besides, we just wanted to check you had everything you needed.”  
  
The women’s twin gazes swept the room, lingering for rather a long time on Connor and Becker.  
  
“I suppose this is your young man then, dear,” the second woman said, addressing Becker, and Connor suddenly realised that she must be Mrs. Williams from the shop. He felt himself blushing.  
  
“Er, yes, it is,” Becker was saying, a trifle awkwardly. “This is Connor.”  
  
“Lovely to meet you, dear,” said Mrs. Williams, smiling brightly at Connor.  
  
Connor nodded quickly. “You too,” he replied, feeling his blush deepen.  
  
There was a strangled noise as Stephen smothered a laugh, and both women looked at him quickly before turning back to Ryan.  
  
“Well, Tom, if you’re quite sure you’ve got everything you need, we’ll be off. But if you do find you’ve forgotten something tomorrow, just ring up Ada here and I’m sure she’ll be able to help you.”  
  
Ryan smiled at them both. “That’s very kind of you.” Then he looked outside, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get back to the village all right?” he asked.  
  
“Of course, dear” said Mrs. Llewelyn firmly. “Don’t worry about that.”  
  
“Well, okay. Although perhaps you could give me a ring when you get in? Just to put my mind at rest.”  
  
“I will, dear. Well, good-night to you all. And Merry Christmas.”  
  
A chorus of ‘Merry Christmases’ followed the two women out of the door, and Ryan waited until he saw them start up the Land Rover and set off down the drive before he closed it upon the night and turned back to his companions, smiling broadly.  
  
“I told you they were nosy parkers round here,” he proclaimed. “I think you two have just been vetted.”  
  
Connor snorted with laughter while Becker tried, and failed, to look dignified. “Do you think we passed?” he asked, between chuckles.  
  
“Oh, I think so.”  
  
“Are you kidding? It took them a whole week, and several rounds of drinks in the pub before they’d accept me. You two got off lightly!” Stephen looked mildly affronted by this turn of events, and Connor chuckled again before focusing on the boxes Ryan still held in his hands.  
  
“Come on, then – let’s try some of these wonderful mince pies!”  
  
*   *   *   *   *  
  
Becker eyed Connor as he sprawled on the bed, mostly undressed with his arm flung over his face, blocking out the light.  
  
“You’re going to have to shift over a bit, you know. You can’t have the whole bed.”  
  
“Can’t,” Connor groaned. “I’m too stuffed to move.”  
  
“You shouldn’t have eaten all those mince pies and chocolates then, should you?” Becker pointed out unsympathetically.  
  
“But they were so good…”  
  
Becker shook his head in fond despair, and then perched himself on the only available corner of the mattress so he could take his shoes and socks off without toppling over. His jeans and t-shirt followed, and then he stood in just his boxers, looking down at Connor, who still hadn’t moved.  
  
“Oi.” He poked Connor in the thigh. “Shift. Over. You won’t get another warning.”  
  
Connor groaned again, a bit more theatrically this time, and then shuffled to his right by about a foot. Becker sighed and rolled his eyes.  
  
“Fine. If you won’t make space for me to lie next to you, I’ll just have to lie on top of you, won’t I?”  
  
With no warning he flopped down on top of Connor, none too gently, making the other man squawk in sudden surprise, a pained expression on his face.  
  
“Ow! No fair!”  
  
“You had your chance,” Becker replied mildly, not feeling even remotely guilty.  
  
“Fine, fine, have it your way. I’ll move,” Connor said, pouting slightly. He tried to wriggle out from under Becker’s body, but with limited success.  
  
“Oh, but I’m not sure I want you to now,” Becker mused. “You make a quite a comfortable mattress.” He grinned down at Connor.  
  
“I sincerely doubt that,” Connor responded. “I’m far too skinny and bony to be make a good resting place.”  
  
“Well, maybe,” Becker allowed. “But I’m quite happy where I am at the moment, thank you very much.”  
  
Connor made a show of tutting and sighing, but the twinkle in his eye told Becker that his lover was just as happy with the current arrangement as he was.  
  
“So, are we just going to lie here all night, then?” Connor asked a few seconds later, beating his own record for impatience by quite some margin. “Because I can think of more exciting things we could be doing…”  
  
“It’s funny you should mention that…” Dipping his head, Becker kissed Connor suddenly, catching him slightly off guard, but more than happy to let Connor catch up until he was sighing pleasurably against Becker’s lips, and making the little sounds in his throat that Becker always made it his business to elicit as much as possible.  
  
Another, obviously deliberate, wriggle beneath him drew some contented noises from Becker’s own mouth, and he could feel his cock starting to take a marked interest in proceedings. Connor’s hands sliding down his back and coming to rest just above his buttocks, the fingers sliding under the waistband of his boxers, definitely helped things along, and he wriggled himself, making Connor gasp suddenly.  
  
Becker suddenly decided that his lover was right – there _were_ much more exciting things they could be doing than just lying around. He rolled off Connor suddenly, and slithered out his boxers, freeing his half-hard cock before turned back on to his side and regarding Connor speculatively.  
  
Connor offered him an impish smile, although the effect was rather ruined by the glassy look in his eyes, and the obvious erection tenting his own boxers. “Thanks for that,” he said cheekily. “You were starting to get a bit heavy.”  
  
“Oh, thanks very much,” Becker replied wryly. “I wouldn’t want to think I was squashing you.”  
  
“Oh no, not at all,” Connor assured him, his eyes taking in both their erections. “Nothing squashed here.”  
  
“Glad to hear it.” Reaching out, Becker cupped the bulge in Connor’s underwear, squeezing briefly before encouraging Connor to raise his hips so he could slide the boxers down the other man’s slim legs.  
  
Connor’s claims of being too skin and bony were wholly inaccurate – he wasn’t as muscled as Becker, but over a year of chasing after prehistoric creatures had given his lean frame some definition, and his body was a sight that Becker never got tired of looking at.  
  
He felt his cock harden further, and his arousal jump up a notch or two. The previous night they’d both been too tired after their long journey to Wales, and the stress of nearly finding themselves out on the street, to do more than fall asleep in each other’s arms. But Becker was definitely feeling in the Christmas spirit now, and it was pretty obvious that Connor was too.  
  
Leaning in, he stole another kiss from his lover, running his fingers along Connor’s cock at the same time and making him groan into Becker’s mouth.  
  
But when Connor tried to press up into Becker’s hand, Becker’s fingers immediately slid away, and he easily pushed Connor back down to the mattress with one hand.  
  
“Patience,” he murmured. “I want this to last.”  
  
Connor made a grumbling noise, his lips forming a pout that Becker just had to kiss away, nipping at Connor’s bottom lip hard enough to make him squeak.  
  
“Turn on your side,” Becker said softly, nudging Connor at the same time to encourage him to roll over.  
  
Connor obeyed with an alacrity that betrayed his eagerness, and Becker smiled to himself as he snagged the condom and lube from where he’d left them on the shelf beside the bed.  
  
He was unable to resist stroking a hand down the long line of Connor’s back, ending the movement with a soft slap on the bum that made Connor jump, and then laugh shakily.  
  
It was nice to be able to take their time, Becker reflected. There was normally always the sense of needing to hurry through things in their everyday lives, in case an anomaly or a dinosaur was about to suddenly drag them away from whatever they were doing. He supposed there was still a chance that would happen here. Rips in the fabric of space-time probably didn’t go on hiatus just because it was the holidays, after all.  
  
But somehow, despite that knowledge, it still _felt_ like they had all the time in the world here. And Becker was determined to take advantage of that feeling.  
  
He caressed Connor’s back again, liking the shiver it elicited, and then shuffled a bit closer to his lover before picking up the lube and flipping off the cap.  
  
The shiver was more of a shudder as Becker pressed his finger against Connor’s entrance, smoothing lube around the tight hole before pushing just the tip inside, feeling how tight Connor was, and how he immediately clenched around the digit.  
  
“Just relax,” he said soothingly.  
  
“What do you think I am doing?” Connor retorted breathlessly, making Becker laugh, and himself gasp at the vibrations.  
  
Becker thrust his finger in a little further as Connor did indeed relax, searching for a few seconds before finding the spot that made Connor shudder again, a soft curse dropping from his lips. Almost involuntarily, his hand dropped to his cock, before Becker pushed it gently away.  
  
“Patience,” he repeated, with mock sternness.  
  
“But…” Connor began, although the whine trailed off abruptly as Becker stroked over his prostate again.  
  
A few more thrusts convinced Becker that Connor was ready for another finger, and although he had commanded patience, he couldn’t help hurrying himself a little now, a third finger following the second rather quicker than it probably should have done as his own cock demanded attention, and he remembered what it was like to be sheathed in Connor’s hot, tight body.  
  
Connor was making soft, desperate mewing sounds by the time Becker withdrew his fingers and moved himself closer still to Connor, encouraging the other man to crook his leg up so Becker could slide his knee between Connor’s thighs and line himself up.  
  
He pushed into Connor in one smooth movement, burying himself right up to the balls with no hesitation, making them both groan in unison. The memory was nothing compared to the actual experience, and Becker paused for a few moments to adjust, until an impatient wriggle from Connor brought him back to himself.  
  
“Patience,” he murmured for a third time, although now the counsel was more for himself than for Connor.  
  
Flexing his hips, he pulled out as far as he could before driving back home again, his hand on Connor’s hip steadying Connor’s body as he set up a rhythm of long, slow, deep thrusts, designed to make this last as long as possible.  
  
Nuzzling at the side of Connor’s neck and across his shoulder, Becker tasted the salty tang on his skin, and underneath a taste that was uniquely Connor. Connor was making those soft mewing sounds again, draw out of him almost unwillingly by the steady, relentless roll of Becker’s hips. Becker felt his own control was hanging by a thread, but it was worth it to see Connor fall apart like this, piece by piece. He still felt like he needed to make things up to his partner, after his spectacularly bad holiday planning. It wasn’t really his fault, he knew, but he still felt responsible, and he was determined to make amends.  
  
And right now, this seemed like as good a way as any.  
  
“Oh god, please…”  
  
The quiet plea made Becker realise that Connor was still keeping his hands resolutely away from his cock, still obeying Becker’s instruction to wait, and Becker smiled a little before reaching over and grasping Connor’s hand, guiding it downwards.  
  
“Make yourself come for me,” he commanded softly, turning Connor’s head towards him and kissing him hard as Connor started stroking his cock in a fast, ragged rhythm.  
  
It was only moments before Connor tensed suddenly, and then came with a sharp gasp, spilling himself over his hand as he shuddered through his orgasm.  
  
It wasn’t quite enough to tip Becker over the edge, and he sped up his thrusts slightly, chasing his own climax through the aftershocks of Connor’s, making Connor whimper slightly as his over-sensitised body twitched.  
  
A few more thrusts, and the sensation of Connor suddenly clenching around, and Becker was coming himself, muffling his own cry of completion in Connor’s neck as his orgasm swept over him.  
  
Neither of them moved for a while after that, the only sound quiet panting as they both tried to get their breath back, and their damp tangled bodies cooled and calmed.  
  
Then, when Becker felt he’d summoned up sufficient energy to move, he gently withdrew from Connor’s body, his lover murmuring a little at the loss, disposed of the condom, and then returned to manoeuvre Connor on to his back and gather him into his arms.  
  
“That was amazing,” Connor muttered.  
  
“I could tell you liked it,” Becker replied, grinning at him.  
  
Connor poked his tongue out at that and batted Becker on the nose, making Becker laugh before his expression turned slightly more contemplative.  
  
“I hope we weren’t too noisy, though. I don’t know how thick the walls are here…”  
  
“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Connor dismissively. Then he grinned slyly. “Besides, I expect they’re far too busy doing the horizontal tango themselves to notice any noise coming from us.”  
  
Becker groaned, and buried his face in the pillow. “Thanks very much for that,” he said, his voice muffled. “I really needed that image of two of my colleagues.”  
  
“I’m your colleague, you know,” Connor pointed out, sounding slightly hurt.  
  
Becker raised his head quickly. “That’s different,” he blustered. “You’re…well…you’re…” Then he noticed the twinkle in Connor’s eye. “Oh, very funny,” he grumbled. “Hilarious.”  
  
“I thought so,” Connor replied lightly.  
  
Becker rolled his eyes, and then almost against his will, his scowl softened into a smile. “This hasn’t turned out to be such a bad holiday, has it?” he asked.  
  
“Not at all,” Connor assured him. “But like I already said, I would have been happy anywhere, so long as you were there with me.”  
  
There was a momentary pause in the conversation as they kissed, and then Connor grinned excitedly. “And it gets better tomorrow,” he proclaimed.  
  
“Better than this?” Becker questioned, raising any eyebrow.  
  
“Well, maybe not better than _this_ ,” Connor amended, winking at him. “But it is Christmas day tomorrow. I can’t wait to open my presents.”  
  
Becker laughed. Connor was always so…Connor. Luckily, he didn’t want him any other way. “Me either,” he replied. Then he frowned playfully. “You are making one rather large assumption, though.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“That Santa’s going to bring you any presents.”  
  
He laughed again at Connor’s squawk of outrage, and then quickly silenced his lover’s protests with a kiss before wagging a stern finger at him. “Now, go to sleep, or else Christmas day with never come.”  
  
Connor grinned. “Yes, sir.” He planted another quick peck on Becker’s lips before snuggling more firmly against him. “Merry Christmas.”  
  
“Merry Christmas, Connor.”


End file.
